Amerikanskiy Solnushka
by potatopersonal
Summary: Russia has recently been going through a severe famine; America believes that there is more than that going on. As time goes on, a man exposes terrible government secrets that will rock the world.
1. Chapter 1

**_WARNING:_** _Potential triggers with those who suffer from eating disorders._

America sighed as he came to the latest world meeting; it was always a big pain in the ass. It wasn't that it was incredibly unpleasant, it was just that.. well.. he had plenty of other things to do! Like eat burgers- no, he did that at meetings too- or play video games, or, or... okay he was lazy!

If he had any credit to it though, it was to be a rather stressful meeting. Russia was to be coming to it; his country was in the middle of a devastating famine. It was the first time in a while that Russia would even be seen. America didn't really know how to react to it; how does a country react to something as utterly depressing? America didn't really know much about famine. Sure, there was the Great Depression, but that was once. Anyway, he got out of that situation real quick, back to juicy burgers and salty fries.

Still, America wondered how Russia would look. The other nations came bustling in, startling America out of his daze. Germany was in the lead, stoic as always. Following was Italy, chattering away to the quietly listening Japan, curl bobbing in the air. France and England were bickering among themselves, and China muttered behind them, complaining about the stupidity of young nations. And lastly... Russia.

America was confused; wasn't Russia supposed to be in the middle of a famine? Russia was wearing the same old beige overcoat, and the same greyish pink scarf, the only minor difference was the bandage wrapped around his right eye, and the slight wobbling that even America was capable of noticing.

As the white haired nation sat down, the meeting finally began. The topic was of what food exports each country would be providing for the following year.

America took that time to stare at Russia, spotting details he hadn't noticed in his quick scope. Russia wore finger-less gloves; the exposed fingers reminded America of tree branches in the winter, thin and spindly. His fingernails were chipped; some were halfway torn, red lines traveling under the thin cotton gloves.

Not only that, but America couldn't see an outline of Russia's body through his overcoat. America had at one point tried on Russia's coat, and his own outline was clearly visible. Yes, he was chubby (shut up!), but it still wasn't good. Before, Russia's outline was fuzzy at best, hard to spot. Now, however...

Finally, America's eyes traveled to Russia's face. His lower face, as always, was covered by his scarf; just above it, America could see where the hollows of his cheeks began, deep, deep dips underneath prominent cheekbones. Bruises were visible, peeking underneath the blood bandaged eye, as well as his nose. His visible eye though... It was glazed over, unseeing, with a dark shadow underneath; it sent cold shivers down America's spine.

"...Rica...America... AMERICA!"

America snapped out of his reverie, looking at a very pissed of Germany.

"Yeah, dude?" America replied nonchalantly.

"Listen to the topic!" Germany barked.

"Alright, alright, sheesh."

Germany gave a sound of frustration, before turning to Russia and saying, "I know it's a rather redundant question, but it's against the rules to skip it. Which foods, if any, will you be exporting this year? I understand that you-"

"Wheat and potatoes," Russia cut in, his voice strained and quiet. Germany was quiet for a moment, shock on his face, before nodding professionally.

"What?! Why?! Aren't you supposed to be in the middle of a famine?!" America burst out, a look of horror on his face. "You can't- you have to stop!"

Russia looked over at America, a smile stretched on his face.

"Don't you think I would if I could?"

* * *

 _"Don't you think I would if I could?"_ Those words haunted America. The tone of his voice, his facial expression; it was a dim acceptance, the knowledge of knowing nothing can be done. It disturbed him; Russia wasn't the type to say that. It must of been how he truly felt, though, the sincerity of his emotions. Russia was breaking, America realized. Breaking and falling apart. There must have been something else going on. What exactly, America didn't know.

He left the meeting in shock. It wasn't right; Russia's people were starving to death, numbers tolling in the millions and still rising, and his bosses chose to send what little food they had to other countries? Why wasn't Russia fighting? Eyes unseeing, he bumped into a nation with shoulder-length hair; Lithuania.

"Oh. Hello, America. Are you okay?" Lithuania asked the other.

"Yes, no, I don't know!" America exclaimed, hands coming up to clutch his hair. It wasn't like him to be so worried, but he couldn't help it. "I'm pissed off at Russia's boss. I mean, the nation's in a famine, right? Is he insane?!"

"I understand what you mean, America," said Lithuania, nodding wisely. "Unfortunately, that's the way it is with Russia's bosses. I don't know the extent- we're separate countries after all- but I can infer from how well he handles pain that he's had some rather unfortunate experiences. And from that facial expression earlier, he most likely has experienced this very same situation many times."

"Wait, weren't you in the Soviet Union?" America burst out. "Shouldn't _you_ know _anything_ about Russia's bosses?"

Lithuania let out a sigh.

"Yes, but the nation you're thinking of is different. The one called Soviet Union," Lithuania shifted uncomfortably, "was a separate entity from Russia. I _still_ don't know what happened to Russia during that time, but Russia always steers clear of anything relating to that topic. I've only heard small pieces and seen tiny snippets, but..."

"I get it."

America bade Lithuania farewell, and headed off to the nearest McDonald's drive-thru. After receiving his meal, he drove home.

* * *

Russia headed back on the plane, collapsing in his seat, shaking. He was so, so _tired_. He could barely stay conscious throughout the meeting. Russia stifled a pained sound, at the terrible pain that ripped through him; another explosion of pain on his body, adding to the gnawing hunger and screaming injuries.

It felt as though he was being burned and pierced with knives and hit with a white hot blunt object and his head pounded and he was extremely hungry. His entire body was covered in bloody bandages; he had to wrap a belt two times over to even get his pants to stay on his hips, but it hurt to even wear them. It hurt to sit. It hurt to lay down. He just wanted it to end. Please...

A strained sound escaped past tightly sealed lips, and Russia began to slip even further from consciousness. Leaning his head against the window, Russia closed his eyes, letting himself slip into darkness, a slight relief.

...Blood spread across his overcoat, covering a large expanse of it. Russia writhed on his bed, screams muffled by the end of his scarf shoved in his mouth. His boss came barging in, screaming and cursing him, told him to get off of his worthless ass and work, so much paperwork to be done. He ignored the large blood stains covering his personification, the amount of pain Russia was in, and demanded that he get to work.

Bottling everything inside, Russia stood up, shaking violently from the strain of keeping in the pain. He stumbled down the hall to the office, leaning heavily on the wall. There were black spots in his vision, the world was spinning, he just wanted to go back and collapse and not have to contain the agony. But he had to do piles of paperwork, or his boss would be angry at him, and would punish him; Russia didn't think he could handle that, and so he began to write. Tears dripped down his face without Russia noticing, as he doubled over in agony whilst writing.

What was he signing now? He couldn't tell anymore. It all blurred together; whatever it was, it was bound to hurt him in the long run, he could _feel_ it. As he finished the papers, Russia heard his boss talking to someone angrily on the phone; some plan must have gone awry. Something about the military not trying hard enough, worthless people...

A bad premonition hit Russia, the feeling of something terrible to happen. Only time would tell what it would be.

* * *

 _That's it for now! Please tell me your opinions, as it makes me happy. -Potato_


	2. Chapter 2

Canada went to greet America, who was standing behind the door, into his house. Chatting as they went inside, America went over to the living room, while Canada to the kitchen. The walls were a soft shade of blue, a flat screen tv taking up the middle of one of them. At the opposite wall, was a light green couch; in front of that, a glass coffee table. Shelves lined the right and left walls; one was filled with books, another with movies, and another with video games to give some examples.

America stretched out his legs on the couch, Canada scoffing good-naturedly. Turning on the TV, he switched to a channel that played all the old episodes of Spongebob.

"Bring out the chips, ma man!" America called out, causing Canada to laugh out.

"Don't you have any restraint?"

"That needs answering?"

Laughing his way over to the coffee table next to the couch, carrying bags of salty chips, sugary sweets, a big bottle of coca cola and plastic cups, all teetering precariously in Canada's arms. Gently setting the the items down, Canada shoved one of America's legs over, and sat next to him.

As the two countries watched the show, shoveling food and guzzling down coke, laughing amongst themselves, the hours slipped by. First one, then two, then suddenly five. Due to the fact that the two were filled with so much sugar, Canada and America decided to turn off the tv, and instead go outside.

As the two were about to step outside, Canada and America bumped into a rather rumpled looking England. The normally confident nation looked exhausted, hair knotted and greasy, eyes with grey bags. Yet the nation looked relieved to have met Canada and England. As England stepped forward, he tripped over his feet, falling forward; Canada rushed forward and caught him, America hovering in the background. Canada placed England back on the ground, making sure he wasn't going to topple over again, and asked;

"W-what's wrong, England? Has there been a major occurrence?!"

"I... it's hard to explain..."

"Hard to explain?!" America burst out. "If something _big_ happened, then just _say_ it!"

"America, that makes no sense," Canada interjected. "Go on, England."

"I think we should go inside, you two," said England, rubbing his face with his hand. "We have an issue."

* * *

The three nations walked into the living room, a heavy gloom present in the air. England eyed the piles of half eaten food; normally he would scold the two for this, but it wasn't the time to do so. No, there was a much more important issue. He sat down in the green couch, leaning back heavily for a moment, holding his head in his hands.

"So... what's going on, England?" Canada tentatively said.

"I... You both know the issue with Russia, obviously," England began. The other two nations nodded, a serious expression on both of their faces. "Well... A few refugees have come over to my land."

"What?!" America burst out, a shocked look on his face. "There hasn't been anyone who's left the damn place yet. Why now?"

"That's where the issue came in. There are five refugees, and all of them said the exact same thing; that Russia was in the midst of a civil war."

"...You're fucking with me, right?" America asked. "We would've known if there was something like that."

"I guess I understand," Canada thought out loud. "I mean, there's so much we _still_ don't know that's being buried away in the depths of government. Like that Soviet experiment that was discovered last year."

"Right. Well, the government and the richest were fighting against the rest of the population. With years of resentment towards each other, it was bound to happen... No one could leave due to soldiers covering the borders... Considering what the other nations have said, with some alarmed at the soldiers so close to the borders, it _has_ to be true... The little food that's actually in the country is all in the hands of the government... Millions and millions more than what we believed the total number was. What the government and rich have in weapons, the poor make up in excessive numbers. Still, the poor are being demolished left and right...

"The news got leaked from the government by a man of the name Chris Walkens. He's been fired and sent to prison for revealing it, but now that it's revealed, it's bound to be global news within days, even _hours;_ I'm worried about what Russia's government will do. If they've gone so far to keep it a secret, then they might launch an attack..."

"I... I don't even know what to think..." America spoke in a quiet voice. "We... should we hold a meeting for this?... If it's gotten out already, we should come up with a plan... I can't even imagine how _Russia_ currently feels..." America sighed heavily, and despite all the sugar coursing through him, felt unusually tired. He didn't want to participate in a war, not with one that was already so devastating...

"America's right," said Canada, surprisingly determined. "We have to hold a meeting as soon as possible to figure out what to do. Even if the Russian government doesn't attack, we have to decide whether or not to get involved or not in the civil war."

Taking a deep breath, England nodded as well. The quicker they went over the issue, the sooner it could be resolved. If only it eased the aching pain in his head... England stood up and said his goodbyes, telling the other two nations that he would notify them as soon as possible of the next meeting date. As he made his way down the street, car spotted in the distance, England wondered what he got himself in to...

* * *

 _There you go! Chapter 2! It might not be the best story in the world, but I would really appreciate you guys who bother to read this story to review. It gives me motivation. Thank you for reading! -Potato_


	3. Chapter 3

_Hello! Well... this chapter has some_ pretty _coarse language... just a heads up for those uncomfortable with it. Other than that, please enjoy!_

...Canada and America woke up the next day to a call from England.

"H-hello?" Canada asked, yawning hugely.

"Sorry for waking you up so early, but I wanted to let you know that the meeting will be in two days."

"Alright, thank you. What time?"

"Ten in the morning, the usual meeting place. I'll see you then."

"Goodbye, then."

Canada clicked the end call button on his phone, and collapsed back onto the couch. He buried his face into a pillow, trying to get rid of a headache. It seemed he always got headaches when worried.

"...I hope that there won't be any war," Canada mumbled.

"You've got that right," America sleepily replied. "...Hey Mattie?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you make me food?"

Canada let out a groan, but simultaneously a smile came on to his face. Honestly, this idiot brother of his...

"You're gonna help me make it," Canada mischievously said. Once a few moments passed without America getting up, he dragged the other to the kitchen with a grunt.

"Fat-ass," Canada loudly proclaimed.

"Hey!" America cried out, but a large grin was on his face.

The two brothers went to the kitchen, and whipped up some pancakes and bacon, laughing all the while.

* * *

"Alright, everyone," England announced. He looked even more tired then before. "I'm sure by now you've all heard the news with Russia's immigrants?"

The other nations nodded, a solemn look upon his faces.

"...So far, no declarations of war have been declared. But, that still doesn't mean we can rest. The Russian government might simply be deciding on what to do; the time lapsed from the leak is only two days."

"That is true," Germany agreed. "It usually takes time for governments to respond."

"We can't wait, though!" China burst out. "We have to be ready _before_ anything occurs!"

"I never said to not prepare," Germany replied calmly.

"So then what do _you_ think we should do, Potato bastard?!" Romano called out.

"Well, first off-"

"Wait, hold up, HOLD UP!" America roared. _That_ got the attention of the fellow nations, and they craned their necks to the fuming man. "What about _Russia?"_

"We're going over it right now, genius," Poland sarcastically said, only to be shushed by an annoyed Lithuania.

"You fucking- the actual country, jackass!"

"...Oh..." Poland quietly said. Lithuania banged his forehead on the table. Repeatedly.

"Yeah, _oh._ Now what about Russia? He's clearly in no way capable of fighting; I don't think he can even really stand. If we _do_ fight, then what? Do we dismantle the government and install another one?"

"If we do that," a nation called out, "make sure it's not the capitalist."

"YOU SHUT YOUR FUCKING WHORE MOUTH!" America screamed at the top of his lungs, causing the titter of laughter to cease abruptly. Taking a deep breath, America continued; "Look; what I'm trying to say is that we have to focus on Russia, the person, too. We can't let him waste away."

"...He's right," Lithuania spoke out.

"I agree as well," spoke another voice. Germany.

"As much as I hate agreeing with the Potato Bastard, I agree as well." Romano.

America smiled, a wide grin on his face. "So-"

Canada came bursting through the meeting room, a look of relief on his face. He was clutching a bundle of papers close to his chest, which was heaving with the effort of running.

"I've got some news!" Canada wheezed.

"What is it?" England anxiously asked.

"The Russian government has announced that they won't declare war on England!"

Sighs of relief and cries of joy were heard throughout the meeting room.

"But, they _are_ giving a warning to the English Parliament; if they were to interfere, _that's_ when war will be declared."

"...Still, that's better than an outright declaration of war." England said, looking as though a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders.

And thus, the nations came together, a plan forming together.

* * *

Russia was at his desk, doing paperwork. He wished to go back to bed, but the large pile of paper in front of him told Russia otherwise. A sudden pain erupted in his abdomen; he let out a strangled cry. He couldn't take it any more... Despite knowing he would regret it later, Russia shakily got up, and nearly fell stumbling to the wall two feet away.

Leaning heavily on it, Russia slowly made his way to his room. What might normally take one minute took nearly ten; by the end of it all, Russia was barely hanging on to conscious. He collapsed into the bed, curling into himself.

Dear Fuck, it hurt... If his boss was to beat him later for skipping out on paperwork, then so be it... Russia let out a harsh cough, and wasn't surprised to see red further stain the covers. A slash of pain appeared, spreading out from his left hip, up his torso, across his abdomen, and lower ribs. Cracking noises could be heard, sounding far too much like those "pop rocks" America was so fond of.

Russia closed his eyes tightly, agonized cries muffled by his scarf. He could just barely hear his boss screaming at him. At first, his hazy mind thought it was a delusion. As he found out, that was not the case. His boss angrily reached his personification, grabbed him by the foot, and dragged him out of the bed in an attempt to get him back to work. As he realized the attempt was futile, he began to angrily kick Russia in his sides, curses flying from his mouth.

He didn't even notice his nation had gone unconscious.

* * *

 _About the not letting America change the government, during the Cold War, America would go overthrow governments of other countries that were communist. That meant occasionally making the country even worse off then it already was.  
_

 _I hope you enjoyed; please leave a review down below! I really enjoy seeing them. -Potato_


	4. Chapter 4

"Germany, how're you doing so far?" America asked.

"I just started hacking in. Be quiet," Germany responded.

The nations were going to invade Russia; it would be incredibly difficult, especially this day and age with all the technology, to do so undetected. That's where Germany's current task would be coming in.

Germany was hacking into Russia's military base, an incredibly difficult task. The computers were incredibly secure, many security measures put into play. Perhaps _that_ was where all the money went, Germany wryly thought to himself.

Once they were able to hack in, the nations would be able to find the less secured areas around the borders, as well as the less radar heavy regions. The collective militaries of the nations, including the countries, would make there way to the heart of Russia; Moscow. With the element of surprise, bigger military, and the torn Russian military, they would hopefully be able to end the terrible situation, and get the personification out of there.

America was nervous, very nervous. The military operation was difficult; how would they manage to get through the borders, and sneak through the land undetected? How would they overtake Moscow? How would they get Russia out of there, end the civil war? Hell, America was worried of just how _injured_ Russia would be.

Although it had been nearly four months since the meeting (it takes time to come up with such precision careful plans), there was no way of knowing how Russia was faring. America hoped that the injuries Russia had been bound to receive were minor, but he knew that wouldn't be the case.

Thank God Canada was there with him, helping keep his stress level from peaking. With Canada around, he would be able to find some relief, whether it be playing video games, making food, or simply talking among each other.

America looked back at Germany, whose brows where furrowed; walking behind him, America stared over Germany's shoulder, as he watched the strict nation work.

"America, please leave the room," Germany snapped. "I need to focus; with you hovering over me, I can't."

"Oh! Oh, yeah, sure man," America replied.

America left the room, leaving Germany to his work; he made his way to the kitchen, taking a tub of Ben & Jerry's ice cream, a spoon, sat at the counter, and turned on the tv. One tub of ice cream probably wasn't gonna satisfy him.

Sighing to himself, he shoved the spoon in his mouth, and watched the cartoons playing on the screen.

* * *

Germany rubbed at his temples, trying to get rid of an incoming migraine. Thirty-six hours of work, and no progress. The coding was so _incredibly_ complex; he had barely managed to make a dent.

Honestly... Germany's stomach gave a rather loud growl; despite his hunger, Germany didn't bother to get up. Hacking in was much more important than one meal. If he got up, he might lose what little concentration he had. If he ate, ideas might flow more quickly to his head. What to do, what to do...

"Agh!" Germany cried out in frustration, slamming his fists down onto the desk. This was going to drive him crazy, wasn't it? He had to get in efficiently, make sure he wasn't spotted; at the same time, though, it had to be done _fast_. One could only imagine just how much further Russia would deteriorate in that time period. Looking up reluctantly at the computer screen, Germany realized that in his anger, the mouse had hovered over a specific area of code. Something clicked; that particular sequence... maybe, just maybe... Yes, yes, yes! That particular chunk of code must have been written in _that_ code!

Finally having a grip on the vertical cliff, Germany set to work.

* * *

...After two weeks, Germany had finally managed to hack in. He had barely slept, eaten only the minimum amount, and not showered once, but he finally did it. He called England from the other room, who was working on possible strategies.

"...You called, Germany?" England asked.

"Yes. I finally managed to hack in, ensuring we won't be detected."

England's face brightened. "Oh! That's amazing, to get it done so quickly! I would've imagined it would take a _month_!"

"I did too, but I was determined to get it done as soon as possible," Germany said, looking proud of himself. "We should hold a meeting about the next step."

"I agree," England said. "I'll send word out tomorrow; it's already rather late. Anyway, you should get some rest, have a meal, take a shower..."

"I should..." Germany agreed, and stood up rather unsteadily.

"Here..." England made his way to Germany's side, and slung his arm around the other's muscular waist.

"Thanks..." Germany said exhaustedly.

England helped Germany upstairs, before walking back down; he was in an unusually good mood. *Sigh* Where was Francis when he was needed...

* * *

 _I think that's all for this chapter! Yes, that_ was _a dirty joke above. Now, the next chapter will involve planning the invasion, maybe include some of it in. Maybe a section will contain Russia, I haven't thought it through yet. Nevertheless, I think I'm doing alright thus far with my work._

 _Please tell me what you think down in the review box below! Thank you for reading!_

 _-Potato_


	5. Chapter 5

The next day came; the nations piled into the meeting room, nervous looking. England and Germany were standing at the podium, a SmartBoard turned on.

"Alright everyone," Germany announced; the board pulled up a picture of a map of Russia. Set up on the borders were many dots and bands of red, and a few bands of blue. "On the map is clearly a map of Russia; as you can see though, there's red and blue on it. The red represents the areas where soldiers are present, and the blue represents where there are not.

Now, it is important that when we begin the operation to _remain in the blue areas_. When we assign different routes to each of you and your troops, be careful. Stay in the blue areas. Don't go in the red unless extremely necessary."

England pressed a button on the podium, and several graphs were pulled up. It showed which nations were to be where, as well as a transcribed schedule of the Russian Army.

Germany continued; " As you can see, I have assigned different posts to you and your men based off of your talents.

Veneziano and Romano; you and your men are assigned to prepare the food for the soldiers.

Prussia; you are to prepare the troops for battle. You will also be on the Receiving team.

Canada; you are in charge of making the weapons resistant to the freezing temperatures.

China; you and your troops are helping to defeat the soldiers.

France; you and your men are to back up China's men.

The Receiving team, which Prussia is also on, is the team that deals with the aftermath; helping out the people and providing food, and receiving future immigrants. We will also take Russia out of his country, to help him recover. Those on the receiving team are Prussia, Lithuania, and England.

America, Japan, Poland, and I will be on the utmost front lines; we will diffuse the situation directly, and take down the government and leader, as well as bring Russia back to the base; back in Berlin."

Germany cleared his throat, as the other nations took the knowledge in. Whispering was spreading throughout the meeting room, a tense air.

England stepped in, letting Germany take a short rest. He said; "This operation won't be occurring overnight, clearly. We need time to prepare; a month at the very, very least. Make sure this information doesn't leave your government; we need this to be a surprise attack."

England waited for the other nations to process the information, before giving a slight cough. "We will begin the preparation in one week. Please, come to the base. We need things completed as quickly and as efficiently as possible; if we are quick in our operation, the military will not have an opportunity to strike with warheads."

A solemn silence rang through the room, until America raised his hand.

"What about the rich dudes?" America asked, his eyebrows furrowed. "They have a ton of moolah; they'd be able to buy their way out of it. And wouldn't there be too many of them?"

Germany was about to answer, but Lithuania interjected.

"Well... the rich population only makes up about 5%..." he slowly said."That is a very small amount... and that 5% is mostly made up off the government... so there are few people to have to worry about..."

"How'd ya know about that?" America asked Lithuania, surprised.

"I've lived in his house before," Lithuania answered. "There's a reason his people weren't happy."

* * *

Germany sighed, rubbing at his forehead, as he watched Prussia drill the armies. If only there was a way to get them prepared faster... Two weeks had already gone by, and the situation in Russia was consistently getting more and more worse... They had to start soon, before any more damage could be dealt...

Slowly but surely, though, they were nearing the end of the preparation. Military outfits have been made, as well as weapons that resist the freezing temperatures. Drills of the procedure have been carried out, sloppy at first, but by the end of the month, had reached a sort of drill.

The cold winter was blowing hard, wind scattering the icy bullets of snow.

Hopefully all would go well.

* * *

 _Sorry for the long wait! I got a bit of writer's block._

 _Yes, I know Japan doesn't have a military in this current day and age. However, Japan as in the personification most likely isn't bound to this rule, so he'll be helping out._


	6. Chapter 6

Germany walked out in front with America, Japan, and Poland. America was twiddling with his fingers, and Poland was unusually quiet. The operation had begun.

As the soldiers started the planes and skyrocketed upwards, the main group of four got in a separate plane. Japan got in the pilot's seat, biting at his thumb nervously. He had to avoid all radar signals, something easier said than done. Hopefully, though, with Germany's careful planning, everything would turn out alright.

He flipped the engine switch on, and as the motor hummed, he slowly maneuvered the large vehicle onto the runway. Pushing the throttle, the airplane sped forward instantly, moving faster and faster and faster until Japan tilted his controls up, and with that, they were in the air, leaving Berlin behind.

America fidgeted in his seat, wanting to move around. At the harsh look Germany gave him, though, he decided against it. Instead, he decided to fix his gaze upon everything. There were the seats lined up against the side of the plane. There were the packs fit for surviving the freezing temperature, filled with weapons and food and first aid kits. There was Japan, chilling in the pilot's seat, and all the fancy buttons.

And there was also a futon attached to the side of the plane as well. It was for Russia, who was most likely going to be too ill to be able to sit up for, if at all, very long. A blanket was folded on top of a pillow.

America sighed, and took out a small (large) chocolate bar. _Might as well..._ Poland was eyeing him, and he clicked one of the squares off for him. Rolling his eyes, Poland popped it in his mouth.

Germany coughed, and spoke up. "We'll arrive in approximately six hours. Let me recap on the plans. Remember, we won't be landing directly in Moscow, but rather 40 miles from it. Then we travel by foot, and meet up with China. France, his men, and China's are fighting against the other soldiers, as well as the ones along the borders. With Russia's soldiers so spread out, it shouldn't take more than a few days.

"We incapacitate Russia's boss, and transfer him over to our plane. Japan will be defending the plane as the attack commences. He won't be coming with us."

Poland nodded, and America took a humongous bite out of his chocolate bar. Japan let out a sneeze, seemingly as a reply.

Germany rubbed tiredly at his face, before giving a grim smile. "Let's hope everything works."

* * *

As massive fleets of planes touched the small entrance spaces in borders, China let out a sigh.

Hordes of men, French, Chinese, and others swarmed the area, soon coming upon the surprised Russian soldiers.

As China ran forward, holding a machine gun, he whispered lowly his apologies to Russia. Killing his men to save his men... It seemed the West had caught up to him after all...

But then he aimed his gun up, looked through the calibrator, and fired. Others followed suit, hitting the Russian soldiers, who aimed fire back at them.

China streaked through the crowds, eyeing France out of the corner of his eye, and hurried to another position closer to the frontlines. There, he could see the Russian soldiers.

Their clothes were ragged and thin, no match for the Russian winter, and China could see frostbite forming on their clearly malnourished bodies. Aiming the gun, he fired and fired and fired, the bullets shooting out at fast speeds as it hit the men and women.

A bullet made it's way to his leg, with a fire, and gritting his teeth, baring it so it looked like a smile, China fired back. He knew that they had to finish them off quickly, before the government could react.

France joined his side, hair in a bun, much like his own. His beard was matted with red blood, a look of seriousness upon his face. Killing was something they all had to face eventually, no matter the dislike they shared.

... They were dead. Nearly all of them were dead. How many were left alive, how many were spared? Only a meager twenty out of 2000. One group of Russians brought down, who knows how many to go.

The few left were handcuffed, stripped of their weapons, and became prisoners of war. Their eyes were hardened, unresponsive, as they sat in a sectioned off area of the plane.

China looked at the POW's, feeling guilt and pity for them. Even as their government relied on them, they were very ill supplied and treated... Some of them had months old injuries on display. If the soldiers were this bad, he could only imagine how the large majority, the poor, felt...

* * *

 _YO! Sorry for the long wait! I got incredibly lazy. Like, beyond acceptable. I'm sorry to keep you waiting. Hopefully, my other works will follow suit._

 _-Potato_


End file.
